We Were Blinded
by LightofaThousandSuns
Summary: By Hatred. By Love. By Feelings. By Remorse. And in Reality. An accident cripples a ex-nation, and Roderich must pick up the pieces of his self-blaming heart, and care for a Prussian he's always felt a lot more than hatred towards. PruAusPru, Three-shot.


A/N: This is a three part-gift for a dear friend of mine, who is the Austria to my Prussia :] I have decided to write it as one chapter a month, so let's begin with this chapter!

Right now, the rating is **T**, for mild language, romantic feelings, and various other T-themes. I can promise you, though, the third chapter will cause the rating to be bumped to **M.**

Each chapter has the title of a song; for chapter one, it is: "I See You", from Mika; the song will be quoted at the end, for each chapter.

**Pairing**: PrussiaxAustriaxPrussia

Alright, let's get the show on the road! Warning, though, this story had a lot of tragedy and angst, so be prepared! This story is also **NOT-AU**! Well, sort of—It is set in present time (Not WWII), but everyone is a nation, and everything else is the same.

**Summary**: It was not supposed to happen like this—They had fought before, but never had Roderich's anger caused Gilbert to leave in such a hurry, that an accident came to be the result of their tirades. Now, the former nation is blind—literally. And Rod must be left to pick up the pieces of his own, self-blaming heart; a heart that, deep down, would never wish harm upon the albino he secretly cares for, and has cared for, for centuries.

Song Inspiration:

- "All Will Be Forgotten", by Holly Brook

- "Angels on the Moon", by Thriving Ivory

- "Fear", by Rachael Diggs

- "King of Anything", by Sara Bareilles

- "Come On, Come Out", by A Fine Frenzy

- "Forgive Me", by Missy Higgins

- "Take Me Away", by Globus

- "Use Somebody", by Laura Jansen

- "Hold On (Before It's Too Late)", by The Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

"_Afflicted by love's madness all are blind."_

_-__Sextus Propertius_

* * *

Things never blurred in his mind; every single moment was its own solitary point on the span of time that was Roderich Edelstein's mind. Each was planned perfectly, happened perfectly, according to his daily plans. Before falling asleep at night, his mind was able to recall the events with faultlessness and with pride at doing so.

But within the span of ten minutes, the Austrian could barely remember a thing—wait, ten minutes? Or was it twenty? Thirty? He was not sure, could not be sure, and would not be sure. He could still see himself seated at the piano, belting out Chopin's _Fantasie Impromptu_ with a heated amount of anger, until Elizaveta, a permanent house-residence despite the divorce, ran into the room; the look on her distraught face was enough to cause Roderich to miss a crucial note in the piece, but it was what she said that caused him to place his hands on keys hard enough that they let out a dying groan:

"_There's been an accident."_

Accident...What a word, what a _word_! At first, he had only shown amazement and stupor, questioning her; who, what where, how, what do you mean, 'accident'?

Thinking back on it later, Austria figured he should have known who had been involved—he had just seen the male storm out of his house in a fit of rage uncharacteristic to him just over an hour and a half ago.

But no, no, he had asked, he had _pleaded_ to know; he also, later, told himself that he should have guessed who it was by the way the Hungarian woman before him shook like a fall leaf, her emerald eyes wet with tears, her voice only able to whisper,

"_It was Gilbert…"_

No more information was needed to cause a big reaction; Roderich's body had frozen like a stone in the Himalayas; and if Elizaveta, who was not the biggest fan of the Prussian, was acting like _this_—as if he was…was…

No, he could not go there—what would he accomplish by thinking so, so negatively? But either way, Austria had fear seize his heart; Gilbert, in an accident? What kind? When?

He would find out along the way there; moments blurred faster, as he wasted no time in getting his car keys from the dish by the front door, his ex-wife running after him, stating as she followed him to the car,

"_It was a car accident; h-he was speeding, and…and he ran a red light and…And…A-And I don't know the extent of his injuries, L-Ludwig was the one who called me to let you know, he…he could not say yet, Gilbert was in the operating room. T-The doctors were trying to fix him and…"_

She did not need to finish that statement—Both Hungary and Austria knew that it should have ended with the statement 'and save his life'; that thought had done nothing to chill the Edelstein's heart as he ran to his car, hoping into the driver's seat, as Elizaveta gave him instructions to where the hospital was—it was near Germany's house; apparently the albino had been on his way to there, driving his brother's car after he had come from Austria's house, for his daily harassment moment.

Normally, the aristocrat had someone drive him about, when errands and world meetings were held at various nations; it was two-thousand and ten, so Austria's wealth was a decent amount, and he could afford to have such a thing happen, in accordance with his Boss's wishes, mind you. But in the moment, when speed was a necessity, Roderich did not call for James, instead starting the car on his own, pulling out of the large estate, violet eyes gluing themselves to the road.

And then, moments blurred afterward; he could barely register Elizaveta's somber voice speaking to him, stating various comforting words, telling Austria not to worry, that Prussia was a strong man, despite being an ex-nation; that if he had survived dissolution, then this was certainly to be nothing…

…Right?

To those statements, the pianist could only nod, trying to agree with Hungary; but unfortunately for him, he knew, just knew, that there was something horrible in all of this—Prussia was more of a man than a nation now; and if anything, people were waiting, still waiting, to see if Gilbert Beilschmidt would live for an extended period of time—if he would turn out to age along with his brother, Austria, and everyone else.

Nails gripped the steering wheel harder—that idiot could not die like this, right? Through an accident?

…Right?

And then, now, in present time, the moments failed to blur further; they had arrived at the hospital, a clean, sterile place, and Roderich could feel himself running down the hall to the waiting room, Elizaveta on his heels—but she did not tell him to slow down.

Out of breath, and out of the blurry past, violet eyes could only register the fact that they were all there—the majority of the nations that existed were seated amongst the normal persons and citizens of Germany; said nation himself seated in the middle of the conglomerate of men and women, his blonde-tresses-covered head resting in his hands, Italy to his left, the Italian for once in his young life silent, placing a hand on Ludwig's shoulder.

Not a sound came from the group; England sat with his legs crossed, the pale hand resting on his chair's armrest digging into the wood; his body, tense from the stress, was only calmed by a hand in his hair—that was from America, and Roderich could recall that it was no secret the two were heavily dating; they had been for the past decade, and every nation was just waiting for one of them to pop the long-lost question of romance.

But romance was not on the forefront of anyone's mind; each body, stressed, tight with anxiety; the Brit, Gilbert's supposed best-friend, was not the only worrying male; Francis was not any better off, being the dramatic one to cry into Canada's shoulder, the younger North American Brother torn between feeling violated and feeling joy for being remembered—sort of.

Austria himself fell into a chair near the edge of the group, letting out a shaky sigh; his body shook with emotions the male rarely showed outwardly, but Roderich's body was shutting down unexpectedly at the display before him, and the setting around him—he could smell life and death, dirt and cleanliness; yin and yang right here, in this hospital. Opposites of Heaven and Hell, of angels and devils; of the reaper versus the guardian angels of the souls that resided here.

Elizaveta came to stand behind him, to rest a hand on Roderich's weary shoulder, but the twenty-three year old barely registered the touch of his former wife; amethyst eyes could only glue themselves to the cerulean tiled floor, where not a speck of dust resided.

How, how had this happened? How had they come to be here? It was as if the world was waiting for a funeral, for the death knell…

_No, this…this cannot be…_

How could Gilbert have gone from…his semi-normal (Normal for Gilbert, anyway) state a few hours ago, to fighting for his status as a living human being now?

All that could occupy Austria's mind was he and Gilbert's last conversation from hours ago—if he died, yes, _died_, he could no longer hide the option from the troubled mind, that was to be his last memory of Gilbert…

And it was heart-wrenching; purely heart-wrenching. Roderich would not be able to live with himself if that happened…

And yet, the whole ordeal replayed itself in his mind, like that of a broken record…

* * *

"_Oh, RODDY~!"_

_He should have been used to such a nickname; he should have also been used to Gilbert Beilschmidt finding intricate ways to sneak into the home—Elizaveta had locked the doors early this morning, at Austria's insistence, and yet, there the albino was, the window in the music room ajar from being jimmied open with deft, pale fingers; the brunette male had been involved so deeply in his music, that the window's squeak of penetration had fallen on deaf ears._

"_Oh, Good Lord. Do you even know what the meaning of a door is? Or knocking?" _

_"Psh, you know I prefer surprising you! It's a lot more fun, kesesese~"_

"_Fun for you, you mean. Since when have I ever expressed fun towards you?"_

_This was technically a normal argument for the two of them—it was almost on the verge of annoying, yet witty, banter, like that of an old English novella where a heroine and hero argue until they realize their true feelings. Unlike such a tasteful adventure of romance, Roderich sat upon the piano bench knowing that he was far from hiding his feelings concerning the Prussian—hatred and detesting had consumed his heart ages ago…nothing else could be hidden underneath the surface, and he made that perfectly clear as Gilbert sauntered over, leaning against the large, ivory beast, Austria barely able to contain a snappish remark about him doing such an action._

"_Well, that's because you're a…you know what, I've said it a million times; I've said all of those words billions and zillions of times, so why bother saying them more?" Prussia waved his hand with a dismissive gesture, and a cocky smirk, "Someone who is awesome shouldn't repeat themselves, right Roddy?" _

_"I would not know—I neither consider myself to be such a thing due to my ego not being the size of Switzerland's bank accounts, nor because I do not know people of such status."_

_Prussia scoffed, "Oh, you say that, but that's just your de-ni-al~!"_

"_My…"denial" is non-existent, you twat. I'm surprised you even know that that word exists." Austria stood without another word, gently pushing the piano bench towards the instrument with a gloved hand._

_A throaty laugh from the Prussian, who merely stepped closer, a smug expression upon his pallid and thin face,_

"_Come on, Rod, I ain't stupid, so stop acting like I am!" _

_A dark eyebrow was quirked, "Oh? This is coming from the man who just used the word 'ain't'? Impressive, I thought that was a sign of poor diction and poor mental faculties. Forgive me, then, Oh Great One." Over the years, Roderich had perfected his sarcasm when it came to Gilbert and his intrusions—unfortunately, the albino missed the words and icy tone of the Austrian entirely, merely concentrating on the word 'diction', and believing it to be referring to his…well…_

"_What'cha mean by diction? Are you insulting me? And I can talk however I want!" _

_"Imbecile…" It was a soft murmur, and a rubbing of worn temples followed it; to Roderich's utterly sad surprise, he had little time to react in other ways, before an arm clothed in blue fabric wound its way around his bony shoulders, causing him to start._

"_Oh, I can show you great 'diction', Roddy~ I'd be more than happy to show you my five me-"_

_Austria's reflexes were quick enough to move a hand and whap at Prussia's face, shutting him up for a second, just in time._

"_Diction is an term concerning how you speak, not your stupid sexual organ. And get your hands off of me!"_

_Frazzled and lightly flushing, the shorter nation pushed away the forever intruder; though he would never deign himself to extreme violence, a light shove here or there was gentlemanly enough for Roderich, and it caused Gilbert to pout with displeasure each and every time—so what if he got a thrill out of that? It was not as if the ex-nation did not deserve it._

"_Someone's in a charming mood today." Gilbert spat, ignoring Austria's glare as he situated himself upon the couch in the music room, the plush, lavender fabric rubbing up against his body and boots—boots, of course, that held dirt and grass upon their frame, and caused a twitch to form upon the Edelstein's face._

"_You know, I was in a 'charming mood' earlier—I was being very cordial and kind to everyone until some annoying person showed up and ruined it for me." He came to stand in front of the couch, arms crossed; this truly was not the day for Gilbert to ruin his mood, certainly—he had been practicing many of the old composers' masterpieces, but Roderich had been in the mood to create one as well; it was a past-time he did not always divulge in, but he certainly could and had chosen upon this morn and afternoon to create a piece. Perhaps he would even ask Elizaveta for her input later, after he would take the dame out to lunch, along with Lili and Vash—Surprisingly, they had been getting somewhat along better, it was almost…ominous how Switzerland had been willing to put aside some differences so his sister and Roderich's ex-wife could get along._

_But no, now everything was ruined—Austria knew the plans he had made were gone out the window thanks to Gilbert showing up, and the albino knew it; his red eyes were full of self-righteous mirth, his body spread out on the furniture in the cockiest manner possible._

"_Well, Roddy, you should kick that annoying person out, eh? Or get Lizzy to chase him out, eh?" _

_"I would kick him out if said person did not INSIST on finding a way back into my home, and thankfully, Elizaveta, who you should not refer to in such a CHILDISH manner, is cleaning and doing laundry outside, and I shall not disturb her unless it is needed. Besides," Roderich paused to huff out a breath of angry air, "It is about time that I kicked you out myself."_

_"Ooh, look at you! So brave. And so obviously having a stick up your ass." Prussia let out as his rebuttal, "Honestly, why can't you ever just admit ya like having me around, huh? Don't I keep things interesting?"_

_The grin upon Gilbert's face did nothing to ease the Austrian's stress, and it only caused him to snap, "Interesting? Why, I would rather live in the doldrums for the rest of eternity than to put up with you any longer; no, for one day longer!"_

_A snort from the platinum-blonde, silver-locked male, who righted his body until he was sitting back against the couch, boots coming to wind up on the coffee table,_

"_You__ already live in the doldrums, Specs. Look at this place, do you ever do anything fun? No, you don't, so that's why I come by." _

_"Well, perhaps I do not WANT you to come by! Has that ever crossed your full-of-ill thoughts brain? And get your damn feet off of my TABLE!"_

"_How about you just calm the Hell down, and let me stay awhile?" _

_"Since when do I ever let you stay 'awhile'? Do you not understand my displeasure that I have each and every time you choose to stupidly break into my home? Or are you just that ignorant and stupid?"_

_The last few words seemed to, surprisingly, hit a nerve with the skinner nation; Roderich had noted it at the time he had said them, but later, he would realize with a groan that there had been other things on Gilbert's mind at the time—and his words had just antagonized the other to realms where he rarely tread._

_The Prussian stood, arms crossed, his tone full of malice that had not existed, in the Austrian's mind, for years; each time the Beilschmidt boy did break into his house, yes, they fought, but more than eighty percent of the time, Gilbert was just…annoying. He rarely showed the anger that Roderich expressed at each encounter; sometimes he became irked at the brunette's behavior, but it was never to the point where he would lash out harshly—his anger, if it was there at all, was subdued, and limited to insulting Roderich with whatever words he chose, and finally leaving in a huff, or being kicked out by Elizaveta._

_Today, though, there was a fire in those ruby eyes that violet orbs had never seen before—at least, not in years. _

_No…Not in __**centuries**__._

"_Shut up, Piano-Boy. You're not fucking perfect either, and you're not the smartest nation in this world, so you better not be calling ME stupid!" _

_A scoff from the shorter male, "Please, Gilbert. I know I am not the smartest nation in this world—Eduard holds that crown; but I know that I am at least smarter than YOU. For I do not tread where I am not wanted."_

"_Oh, that's a load of crap. If you didn't want me here-" _

_"I would kick you out? Do I not already DO THAT, you twit?"_

"_Well…Yeah, but so what? I always come back, because-" _

_"Because you are a stupid moron that somehow gets jollies out of harassing me and ruining my daily plans!"_

_"What plans?" Their voices were escalating; normally, it was Roderich's own that went as high as the New York Skyline, but this time, Gilbert's voice was joining him in a chorus of rage, "You sit all day in here with your fucking piano playing Mozart and other shit like it! What kind of plans are those?"_

"_Leave my piano out of this, you idiot. At least I do not hang around with a CHICKEN all day!" Austria let out the shout, pointing accusingly to the yellow bird nestled into Gilbert's hair, napping; the cry caused blood-hued eyes to widen in indignation. _

"_Leave Gilbird out of this! At least he knows how to have fun, unlike you!"_

"_He's an animal! He does not know anything; If he was at least a SMART animal, like a canine, perhaps he would know something, but he is a stupid, barbaric chicken, who leaves his feathers EVERYWHERE and I am left to CLEAN THEM UP!"_

"_I SAID, leave GILBIRD OUT OF THIS!"_

"_It is hard to do such a thing when the creature is right THERE!"_

_They were shouting, now; how it had escalated so fast, and so loudly, neither knew; they were screaming out words of rage that they themselves could barely understand—never had they gone this route, not in so, so long. Roderich blamed it on his perfect day being ruined by Gilbert showing his 'ugly mug' (Words he shouted aloud, and caused the albino to flinch very, very subtly); who knew what the Prussian blamed his rage on—Austria would find out in weeks, down the road, and would later regret why he mentally snapped—it was not like him to do such a thing, but his patience had just…worn so, so thin._

_Perhaps it was partially to be blamed upon the fact that the ex-empire had broken into his home and surprised him the entire past week; there was also the fact that maybe, just maybe, his sleep was being disturbed by thoughts of the man…_

…_Positive thoughts; thoughts and dreams that ate away at Roderich's conscience. Dreams that ended in sweaty bed-sheets, a crooning occurring into the pillow as hands fondled a wet-with-pleasure body, panting softly, begging for mercy, from both God and a godly human…_

_Either way, their witty banter went from anger and irking one another, to causing pain, rage, and Roderich knew that he probably would be unable to turn back at this rate._

"_You IDIOT! Do you ever realize that I DO NOT WANT YOU HERE? How many times must I kick you out until you get the POINT?"_

"_Why do I have to be kicked OUT? Why can't you just let me in for once, you goddamn PRISS?"_

"_Because you're a drunkard! Because you're a war-mongering imbecile who believes he can do whatever he WISHES!"_

"_Oh, WAR-MONGERING?" Gilbert scoffed, "Is this about Silesia?"_

"_Perhaps. Maybe it always WAS about Silesia!"_

_A wry laugh bounced off the music room's walls, Prussia shaking his head in disbelief, "Someone can't get over losing, can they?" _

_"Oh, I can get over losing—What I can't get over is losing to YOU!"_

"_Shut up! You should be proud that I BEAT YOU!"_

"_I should be proud that a FORMER NATION beat ME?" _

_Another nerve struck; and the Prussian tried to hide the hurt that was evident on his face. Blind with fury, Roderich failed to see the despondency hidden in those orbs—but thinking back on the fight, he could see it clearly, as if it was the sun in the sky, and a lump caught in his throat._

"_HEY, at least I'm not dead! Screw you, because I may be a former nation, but I'm happy and alive just like the rest of you guys!" _

_"OH, you wish you could screw me. Does it irk you that Spain got to me first, hmm?"_

_It was a cheap shot—The House of Hapsburg was rarely spoken of, by either man. Roderich thought of it as an arranged marriage that eventually failed and left him broken and reluctant to be with anyone else—perhaps it had even affected his and Hungary's divorce, too._

"_Why the hell would THAT piss me off? What you do with other men isn't any of my fucking business, and I don't really wanna KNOW what you do either!"_

"_Oh, NOW you decide to not get involved in my business?"_

"_Because I don't want to know when you get fucking laid! IF you ever do! HAH! Though, I bet you got laid by someone, and I bet I know who it is." _

_"OH? Tell me, you cocky bastard, and let me refute your stupid claim."_

"…_Maria Theresa. Your cute little Archduchess." _

_And that, Austria forever remembered, was the final straw; wrath fueled his amethyst eyes as he stepped closer to Gilbert, face red with embarrassment, but most of all anger—pure, hellish, anger._

"_Get. Out. NOW." _

_"Oh?"_

_"Yes. And don't you ever come back. How dare you give that woman a bad name like she was a common whore! If anything, YOU are the common whore here!"_

"…_" _

_"You ignorant, stupid, idiotic fool! YOU KNOW HOW MUCH SHE MEANT TO ME! How DARE you talk as if you can say whatever you want! GET OUT!"_

_Gilbert said nothing, merely gazing at the shorter, bespectacled man, who was letting out huffs of breath fueled with hot resentment, his gloved hands clenched in fists; never, never had Roderich shown his anger before—not to this extent. He was not an emotional man, had never been one, and vowed to never be one. But here he was, all his walls stripped away, his mind blind with fury; Gilbert, on the other hand, had a face of calm perfection, save for the slight twitching of his lips; there was still a rage in his eyes, but it was…calmer—and that alone was scarier than how they had looked mere moments before._

"…_Fine. I'm leavin'. And I won't come back, then." _

_"Good, because you are not WANTED back."_

_Secretly, he had, for a while, wanted to be civil with the Prussian—their relationship was based on wars, fighting, bickering, and other negative emotions, and yet…there was an aura of civility between them; they had witty banter that sometimes divulged into worse, but it had never been like this—Gilbert had never walked away with such a heated step upon the ground, deigning to not even give the other male a gaze back over his shoulder; Roderich did not wait for an apology, a look, nothing—merely choosing to try to calm himself after breaking his "gentlemanly code of conduct"._

_And he stayed there, playing Mozart, Chopin, whoever he could conjure up in his seething brain; the music being loud, furious, fingers hoping across the keys, Austria hoping he could calm himself eventually…But the calm was not coming as fast as he had hoped it would._

_But the music was powerful enough to drown out the sound of screeching tires on a road, and a rough voice letting out German swears…And it was powerful enough to make Roderich not realize that he had let a tear fall onto the ivory gems existing in front of him…_

* * *

He had been so absorbed in the recollection of the trauma before the even worse trauma, that the Edelstein had not noticed a doctor coming into the waiting room, waving Ludwig aside to speak in private, in a corridor that lead towards rooms where patients resided.

Only a few other nations chose to eavesdrop, they being England, France, Spain—And Austria himself; before he had even time to register the facts in his conscious mind, before he could even truly think the words "stand up and follow", he was doing so, coming up to stand behind Arthur, the Englishman giving him a bit of a sour look that was overshadowed by fear and sadness; sadness that was evidently heavy on every heart, for even France was so absorbed with hearing the news as they crouched there, around the corner unseen by the medical personnel and the young German, that he did not try to molest the Austrian.

"Well?"

That was from Ludwig, and it was the question of the hour; the light-skinned and even lighter haired doctor sighed, fixing his glasses upon the bridge of his nose, before letting out in a deep baritone,

"The good news is that your brother is alive; we have been able to stabilize his condition, and I have to think because he is…different, like you and your friends, that he is alive. Normally, any human would probably have died of head trauma because of this type of accident. His head was rammed into the side of his car at such a high speed that I am surprised he did not suffer worse…But…"

"…Worse? 'But'? What is it, Doctor?"

The elder man sighed, "I…unfortunately must be the bearer of bad news to you. Thankfully, the majority of your brother's injuries are not terrible—a few injured muscles and bones, but nothing requiring a cast—just some bandages for the cuts from the glass of the windows breaking and to steady his injured parts, and I would recommend he walk with a cane for multiple weeks, because a leg was badly beaten up during the accident, but he will heal there."

"Then what is the bad news?" Germany's voice wavered at the question; Austria had never heard the man use a shaky voice, unless it came to people who were extremely close to him. And by the way the doctor removed his glasses and rubbed his temples, Roderich felt it being a horrible signal, and bit his lip in trepidation.

"Your brother…when his head hit the side of his car, he caused a great mass of damage to the occipital lobe in the back of his brain, according to our CT scans. This…is what is used to see. And because of the amount of damage, I regret to say that…"

The elder let out a sigh, while the muscular blonde's orbs grew to exponentially amazing size, and he let out a breathy,

"…N-No. You…You are not saying that-"

"Ludwig, I regret to say that your brother has gone blind because of the damage his head received from being somewhat ejected from the seatbelt, and hitting the side of his car. And I cannot say whether he will recover from it or not."

A gasp sound out from the hall, and Roderich was startled to find that it had come from his own mouth; Germany was stock-still, staring at the doctor as if he had grown a third eye in the middle of his forehead, with his mouth agape, arms at his side, while hands fisted. England stared at the doctor for a moment, and jumped from his crouching position like a jackrabbit, fleeing from the scene, and the musician of the group could discern tears in emerald eyes; ears picked up the sound of American coming to the British one's side, asking what was wrong, only to be answered by a English swear, and a cry.

"_Dios mios_…" Spain let out a shaky breath, and he rose too, fleeing just as fast as the Kirkland had; France followed him, crying dramatically, and yet, still appropriately. He was heard a few moments later expressing the tragic news to the rest of the crew, and Austria suspected he was clinging to Canada once more.

Austria remained though, glued to his seat, back against the wall, eyes staring at the ground as they had been doing so before.

Blind…? Gilbert was…blind?

How…? How could this have happened? Was he not the strong Prussian Empire? Okay, former Empire, but _still_, that was not the _point_…

He was one of _them_—_They_ did not go blind; they could get sick, yes, for Roderich himself had spent time in a wheelchair, but he had recovered!

But…But Gilbert…

Gilbert would…would never seen them again? He would never seen _Austria_ again?

Lightly shaking, the pianist brought his knees upward, so he could wrap his bony arms around them; no, he had to be wrong—the doctor had to be in error, this could not happen to _Gilbert_…Not _now_…

Not right after they had _fought_…Not when it would mean that the last vision of Roderich that Gilbert had seen was a face of…rage…

Pink lips were bitten, Roderich daring not to let out a cry when so many others were near; the voices were already being drawn towards Ludwig, who was letting his hurt and rage show, with words,

"HOW? Can't you fix this! He's my BROTHER, you have to fix him! You're a doctor, DO _SOMETHING_!"

The doctor was failing to calm the larger male down, and a hand shakily placed itself on the German's shoulder,

"Sir, please, try to stay calm. We did all we could for him; there is still the possibility that his brain may heal itself, but…"

"But WHAT?"

"…But it could possibly take a miracle for it to do so."

A shaky breath escaped Ludwig, and from his hiding spot, Austria could see the man shaking even worse than the brunette was, while murmuring,

"Does Gilbert know that he is…blind?"

"Unfortunately, no. Which is why I need you to be there when he wakes up. I am afraid he could…Well…become scared."

"When is he waking up, then?"

"I would say within the next few minutes, so please, follow me."

A quick exit was made, and violet eyes watched as the duo of men traversed the hallway another few feet, to a room upon the right wall; Roderich silently stood, arms wrapped around and embracing his own body, feet feeling heavy as stone.

Why…Why did it have to happen like this…?

"_Get. Out. NOW."_

"_You are not WANTED back."_

_No…No, No…Gilbert…_

_Come back…I-I did not want THIS…_

_Prussia…Gilbert…_

…_.Did I cause this?_

Had he, in a fit of rage, caused the albino to be reckless on the road? Anger and fighting were common causes of vehicular accidents, but…but…

To think that his words had affected the Beilschmidt enough to where he had become less careful and…and…

A whine escaped Austria's lips, dainty fingers coming upward to touch the orifice upon his face; no, no, he had to stay positive—he had to, perhaps…perhaps it was the other person's fault, the other driver, or maybe the road had been…been slippery or-

"AHHHHHHH!"

A scream interrupted Roderich's thoughts—a scream from down the hall, and he knew that voice; he had heard that man scream before. He had heard a piercing cry when Ivan Braginski had taken the man away from his family and friends, to the cold, snowy north; he had screamed for Ludwig, and even at one desperate point, for Roderich, who had been nearby at the time.

So, the scream's owner was evident from the first decibel being unleashed, and it chilled the Austrian male to the bone, even more so when it continued,

"WEST? WEST, WHAT'S HAPPENED? WEST! WHERE ARE YOU, I CAN'T SEE YOU!"

Gilbert was awake, livid, and apparently, and obviously scared; whereas his voice had been strong for centuries, without even looking upon the man, Roderich could tell that the young male was in a pit of fear, as he continued to cry out, begging for mercy without saying such words.

Mind becoming numb to the situation, the brunette male barely registered that in his surroundings, Ludwig was screaming for his brother to calm down, and the doctors were doing their best to assist; all that Roderich could see was a fantasy his mind had made up—a car, Germany's beautiful black car, smashed on the road, Gilbert's prone body lying on the front of the car, sporting a bloody head and glassy eyes, glass in his hair and hands and…and…

"Ahh…" Roderich's breath was shaky, and the world blurred once more, subconsciously; Gilbert's yelling had done that to him, and he failed to register the doctors were calling for nurses with harsh voices, for the albino had lost control and his body was jerking horribly with pain and depression and fear, his throat becoming hoarser with each shout that he was able to unleash.

Slowly, finally losing the last of his energy, Roderich sunk to the floor once more, ignoring the pounding feet of his friends as they rushed towards the commotion, Gilbert's screaming finally reaching their tired and worn ears; no one spared him a glance, for he spared no one a glance, and only when Elizaveta stopped by, giving him a look of questioning, did he give a response to her silent question:

'No.'

No, he could not follow her into the albino's hospital room; there would be no way he could—not now.

So Austria sat, once again, folding up into himself, isolating himself from the heartache echoing forth from the hall; Gilbert's screams slowly slid down to levels of nonexistence, but the brunette's ears had been deafened by the beats of his own heart, and his rushing blood; and, his fears.

Maybe it was the fear that this, all of this, was his fault that caused a part of Roderich to crack—he could not help but see it in any other light other than to point the blame at himself, and wish that it had been him in that car, and now in that bed, and now crippled.

…There was no other way the musician could see it—he would rather wish this upon himself than…than…

_Than someone I truly care for…_

But wishes, apparently…were not going to come true for him.

At least, not for awhile…

* * *

_**Hours later –Nearing Eight P.M.**_

* * *

To Roderich's calm ears, he had heard the entire story—Gilbert had been sedated calmly, and put unconscious for awhile, about an hour or two; when he had awakened, there were no more screams, only tears—and sobs. Sobs that were loud enough that Austria had heard them from his spot in the hallway, the spot where he had not moved from since the ordeal had begun. Well, truth be told, he had moved only once, when Elizaveta had protested that he at least eat one meal; so he had ventured with the Hungarian lass to the hospital cafeteria, barely eating the gelatin and macaroni they served on this day, and afterwards, he had protested that he wished to be left alone.

"Are you sure, Roderich?" Had been his ex-wife's croon of sadness, and Austria had merely nodded, stating,

"Please. I need some time alone."

So he had been left alone; the other nations, on the other hand, found solace in one another, and in comforting Gilbert; while Germany had never left Prussia's side, and never did, the other men and women ventured in every so often, to speak to him, to comfort the man in his hour of despondency.

But Roderich, oh, the brunette—he dared not even look at the room where Gilbert was; his shoulders had become burdened with the metaphorical boulders of blame, and it took all of his being not to run home, and cry while playing Mozart. But there was something holding him back—maybe it was the fact that everyone else had gone at least once to see the former nation, while he cowered in the corner. And Austria, although he was many things, was not an _extreme_ coward; yes, he hid from his feelings, and yet, he could not run away from the _source_ of his feelings. He dared not run away from Gilbert's room completely—and he was somewhat unsure why he did not.

After all, there was no reason for the injured male to want to see—_talk_ to him…yes? So why did he not just go home, like Elizaveta had done an hour ago?

_Because you do want to see him…you want to face up to what has happened, and see it for your own eyes…You just do not wish to know how he will react…_

It was a reason that made sense, sadly; nevertheless, Roderich kept his seat in the hall, glancing off and on at the albino's place of residence, a sigh escaping his lips every so often; if he tried to look at it in a positive light, Austria had become a silent sentry for the other; he was the secretive seraphim, who guarded a God's abode.

The quiet was broken when Germany came from the room, sighing and closing the door behind him; Austria stood for the sake of manners, hoping that his twitching hands were hidden well enough so that the taller human did not point them out; this hope turned out to come true when the blonde reached Roderich's front in a few easy strides, muttering,

"He…is doing better; if you consider not crying as hard an improvement."

"…Are you going home, then?"

A languid sigh from the younger German, "_Ja_. Visiting hours are over, apparently. I wish I could stay, but they do not want even family with him at the moment. He needs his rest."

"…I-I see." Austria found himself biting his lip, without conscious thinking of doing so.

After a pause, neither man wanting to meet the other's eyes, Germany spoke softly, with, "…Did you ever get the chance to see him?"

"…Why would he want me to make him even more miserable? Ludwig, you know that he is not fond of me at all."

"But you are fond of him, aren't you? Why else would you have spent the entire day sitting here, watching over him? And…he asked about you."

The last statement caused the brunette to start; Gilbert had asked about him? Why? Such questions were voiced quickly, and the Edelstein tried to ignore the waver in his voice.

"Yes, he asked," Was the reply from the male clothed in green, "And why wouldn't he? Roderich, I know you two do not get along well, but…" A sigh, and a gloved hand ran through frazzled wheat-colored tresses, "He would not fight with you as vehemently as he does if he did not care."

"…I do not follow. What do you mean by that?"

"Think about it: Gilbert is a very lazy, selfish, egotistical man; he puts effort into only a few amount of things—eating, sleeping, Gilbird, and his videogames mainly. And yet, he puts a lot of effort into antagonizing you, fighting with you, and trying to see you. Why else would he do it if he did not care about you? He only puts effort into the things he truly cares about—I know this personally; he put much effort into my raising when he was younger, if you can believe that."

Violet eyes blinked multiple times at the end of Ludwig's statement; he had never thought of Gilbert's teasing and harassment of anything other than hatred, debauchery and nonsense that was supposed to drive him insane. But what the other Germanic male was stating made sense; Gilbert put so much effort into inserting himself into Roderich's daily life, and maybe, deep down, he did care about the musician, to at least an extent.

_Just like how you care about him…? What Ludwig said applies to you—You put in a lot of effort into wishing the man gone, when we both know that you just want…him to stay. Why else would you be so despondent about what has happened…?_

Maybe the little voice in Austria's head was correct…

"Go see him. At least once. For your sake and his; I shall wait for you in the waiting room, alright?"

With that, Ludwig walked off down the hall, leaving Roderich to his fate; he knew that he was being extremely cowardly at this point, his heart somehow having picked up speed and was beating like a conga drum from the island nations that existed in the world on this day; the male knew his sort-of-friend had been correct in his words—he would be unable to sleep soundly (or at least somewhat soundly) if he did not venture in and talk to the Prussian nation at least once.

Quiet steps, carefully planned out with perfection, echoed out in the empty hall, and before Roderich was fully prepared, he was standing in front of Gilbert's room; his hands were sweating like the Niagara Falls in North America, his heart still putting out its fast and heavy song, and for just a moment, Austria wondered if he could bow out-

_No, no stop it! You are acting like a child, just go in there and SEE him, LOOK at him, TALK to him…You do it all the time…Well, alright, you YELL and call him an idiot all the time, but you have to start somewhere…You have to start being…You have to…_

…_You have to start realizing at sometime…That you do no mind him…_

_That he is an idiot, he is a selfish bastard, but…_

…_But in a way, he is YOUR idiot…He is the one who bothers you the most, HE is the one who harasses you the most, so in a way…he is yours._

…_Oh Good Lord, Roderich, you sound like your teenage self again…_

Lost in his reverie, Austria had failed to notice that, subconsciously, he had opened the injured male's door, and his feet had begun to step slowly inside; peaking around the corner, purple-hued orbs noticed the dimly lit room was small; the lights had been turned down, but there was a good deal of visibility coming from the moonlight that shone in the window upon the opposite wall; flowers consisting of tulips and daisies and roses had their scents bombarding Roderich's nose immediately, but the scent was dominated by a sight—for there he was, right where the brunette knew he would be.

But that did not mean that the sight of Gilbert brought any comfort to the Austrian—if anything, it made his vital, red-fluid-containing organ screech in pain—like those of tires on a road.

Prussia was sitting up, legs crossed under the thin, teal-hued covers; but it was the gauze on his head that first caught the pianist's eyes; it covered the full back of the male's head and forehead, stopping just above the eyebrows, where, peering closely, one could see stitches maiming pearly skin; other bandages covered the man's arms, flowing past the hospital gown's short, light-blue sleeves, with only a few breaks in between for the IV's to pump liquids into Gilbert's injured body; Roderich of course failed to see the state of the man's legs, but he feared they to be in similar, bandaged shape. Small cuts lines the face of the hospitalized one, Roderich could pointedly see them despite the light, with one or two major scars running down bony cheeks.

But none of that compared to Gilbert's eyes—they still held their same, ruby sheen, but they were indeed different; the aristocrat noticed less blinking coming forth, and although the albino sat up in bed, hugging a plush, stuffed rabbit (Roderich would bet his money that it was a gift from sweet Liechtenstein), his eyes did not gaze upon the rabbit, merely looking upward, as if he was staring into the hidden sky.

A lump the size of Vienna caught in Roderich's throat, but it was not a problem; he took one more step into the room, and it finally seemed that Gilbert caught on to his presence. The Beilschmidt started, straightening up in bed immediately, his cut and damaged fingers digging into the soft, false fur of the bunny,

"W-Who's there?"

Never in all his years had Roderich heard Gilbert stutter—or sound fearful whatsoever. And Roderich could have sworn that his heart had cracked at the sound.

"Ah…Gilbert, it's just me, Austria."

As if he was trying to see the man, the albino moved his head back and forth, eyes still unmoving, stuck in their upward position, as if Prussia was gazing towards God; and silently, Austria was glad that the other in the room was not gazing upon the Lord at this moment.

"What are you doing here?" Perhaps he was trying to be brave; a thought that tore at the darker-haired male's heart, but it most likely was true—Gilbert's world was now a dark blob, who would not be scared of that? And Roderich knew that, after thinking such a thought, that his soul was indeed getting misty-eyed, and he could only step closer to the bed-ridden man; said man had put the doll in his lap aside, coming to sit back against the headboard of the bed, still trying to move his head back and forth, trying to detect exactly where Austria was; he asked such a thing, with, "W-Where are you?"

"Right here." The bespectacled male situated himself on the bed, in an open spot, with a sigh, "And I am here because I was worried about you."

_And I heard you asked about me, and I was driven to come in here and just…just be with you…_

…_And to silently ask if you blame me…_

Prussia managed to actually give a snort, "You? Worry about me? Who are you fooling?"

"…Gilbert…" _He does blame me, I knew it…Good Lord, what have I done…?_

"Fucking hell, Rod, you have never worried about me at all, so don't try to show me pity with a damn lie." There was his Gilbert—his swearing, spiteful, Gilbert; but Austria could not blame him. But the only bright side that came with Gilbert's words was that it seemed he did not blame the brunette for what had happened; knowing Gilbert, that would have been the first words out of his mouth.

"That's not true at all! I have worried about you before! And I worry about you now!"

_I worried so much when I heard about your dissolution…I know I never told you, but I was so, so scared…I thought you were dead back then, just like I did today, for a few moments…I never told you how I buried myself in my music for days on end, fearing that a staple in my life, YOU, was gone…_

_Because you may annoy me, you may drive me insane, but you are a STAPLE…I realize that now…When I thought I had lost you again…_

A small, wry laugh came from the silver-haired male, and he could only shake his head, "Why worry, Specs? Look at me…I'm…Well, I'm done."

"What on Earth do you mean by that? You are not 'done'. You are alive, are you not?"

Gilbert shook his head, "You don't understand, Roddy. I'm blind—I'm done. Yeah, I'm not dying, but…Fuck, I'm not only less awesome now, but how the hell am I gonna go on? You don't have to worry about me dying, that's what I was saying first, but…I dunno, you don't have to worry in general-"

"That is not true!" A hand flew to Gilbert's arm, gently touching it with tenderness, "Gilbert, I am going to worry about you whether you are blind, dying, deaf, or whatever else you somehow end up suffering from! And…And you'll find a way to move on…"

"…" Gilbert remained mute, his head moving towards his left, closer to Roderich' face, until he let out a soft breath, and a lone word, "Why?"

It was a quiet, nearly silently question, and Roderich, to his character, and because it had come from the Beilschmidt, found himself lightly flushing pink,

"B-Because I do. Do you need a real reason?"

"Roddy…It's you. So yes, I do need a reason, especially since you sorta told me off before—lots of times before. I'd think you'd be the last person here. I asked if you were here, but…To actually know that you were…I fucking gotta know why."

"…I…" What could he say? What could he honestly say? Roderich felt his throat was closing, so he could barely, if at all, say a word—or admit the truth, "I-I just…Gilbert, I could not stay away. And you cannot ask me to not care; how long have we known each other?"

"A damn long time, heh. But that's a pretty vague answer, Roddy…"

"I know. I just…"

_I really care about you, you idiot…! Can't you see-…_

…_.No, you can't. You can't see how my eyes are looking at you, and I would give up everything to make you could…_

"…Your voice is really soft." They had gone silent for a moment, until Gilbert spoke up again, and the probing he let out caused Roderich to quirk an eyebrow,

"Hm?"

"I can hear your voice really well, and…You're speaking really quietly. Any reason?"

"No reason, I suppose…Don't I always speak quietly?"

"Psh, yeah, heh. And that's why _I_ always have to speak loudly." There was a ghost of a smirk upon the pallid male's lips, and for a second, Austria felt that they were back in his music room, having their classical banter—but then Austria saw Gilbert's eyes, and how they were…

…And something snapped.

Maybe it was the idea that Gilbert would never see those frowns that Austria always gave him; or maybe it was the fact that Prussia would never see the Edelstein's hidden, tiny smiles when Gilbert arrived to his abode—for yes, he had those, too; they were a guilty thing to have, but Roderich had realized after a few decades that he could not help himself.

_He…He'll never see me again…_

It was selfish to say; he knew he should be wishing for Prussia to see the entire _world_, not just him; but he wanted Gilbert to see just him, just for a few moments—he wanted the taller male to see his eyes and how they were wet with tears and emotion, how they sometimes sparkled with mirth behind Gilbert's back, how there was another, _more powerfu_l emotion hidden behind the hatred that he would flash in the albino's direction.

….But it was too late for Gilbert to see any of that…

…He was too late…

A muted sob escaped Austria's lips, and before he could control his body, his arms flung themselves around Gilbert's bandaged waist, his tired head coming to rest into the bandaged and clothed shoulder.

"…Roderich?" A gasp had come from the Beilschmidt at the action, and another followed it when Roderich began to let flow the sobs he had contained all day.

It was not immediate, but soon after, the brunette felt two, shaky and tentative hands touch his back, feeling and patting his skin, making sure that they were going to rest in a proper and mannerly spot.

"…Rod…" The male probed again, but the only answer he received was more tears staining his robe, "Rod, don't cry…You don't have to-"

"Idiot, s-shut up. Just shut up…" He could not tell Gilbert how much pain had gripped his heart; how it seemed that it was too late for the albino to see him, really and truly see him—and it was only on this single day had Roderich realized how much he wanted that.

"…You're the first person to cry in front of me today, you know…I think I gotta thank you for that; everyone else was trying to be brave."

Roderich barely registered the words, or Prussia's hands, or even his surroundings; his tears, after some time, had slowed, but dripped, like a broken faucet, down his cheeks, and amethyst eyes could only stare at the wall, daring not to look at the male holding him close, but lightly.

"…You're welcome, then."

It was the last whisper for the night; they only resorted to holding one another—words had died on their tongues ages ago; there was nothing left to say, nothing left to see-

…No. There was one thing left for Gilbert to see…

They parted quietly a few moments later, Roderich raising his head and body from Gilbert's, promising to return tomorrow, and days afterward, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, gulping as he managed to gaze at Prussia's face without breaking down further.

"See ya later, Roddy."

And said male who was spoken to could have sworn there was a smile on Gilbert's face…

And part of Roderich's heart got a bit of inspiration right then, and he knew what he had to do—because of guilt, because of his feelings, he would do it.

He would get Gilbert to "see"—See his emotions, his feelings, everything Roderich had been stupidly hiding away for so long; but it was when he had nearly lost something that he had had all along, unbeknownst to him of course, did Roderich realize where he had failed. He realized where and when and how he had failed; how he had failed to notice that the Beilschmidt boy was a decent soul, a soul who did care about Rod in some way; thank the stars Ludwig had said what he did, or Austria might still be blind.

So he had not a single problem saying what he did, when, coming towards Ludwig, a determined expression on his face, speaking clearly, and loud enough for even Him above to hear,

"I shall do whatever I can to help Gilbert."

* * *

_I'm sitting across from you  
I'm dreaming of the things I do  
I don't speak, you don't know me at all _

For fear of what you might do  
I say nothing but stare at you  
And I'm dreaming  
I'm trippin' over you

Truth be told  
My problems solved  
You mean the world to me  
But you'll never know  
You could be cruel to me  
While we're risking the way

_That I see you_

_That I see you _

_That I see you_

_That I see you_

_That I see…_

_Conversations  
Not me at all  
I'm hesitating  
Only to fall  
And I'm weighted,  
I'm hating everyone _

Could it be...you feel for me?  
In any possible similarity  
If it's so, how would I know?  
You'll never know me at all...  
But I see you…

But I see you…

I'm standing across from you  
(But I see you)  
I've dreamt alone, now the dreams won't do  
(But I see you)  
I'm standing across from you  
(But I see you)  
I've dreamt alone, now the dreams won't do  
(But I see you)

_But I see you  
But I see you  
But I see you…_

"_I See You", by Mika_

* * *

**END OF PART I**

* * *

A/N: And there's part one! Hope you enjoyed it!

Next Chapter: "Please Don't Drive Me Blind", and it'll be out sometime next month; I'm off to college, but I'll be writing still, don't worry!

Thanks again, more to come, and for those reading "Savior", expect an update soon!


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